Presently he saw Mary coming. She wore slippers and was very swift of foot. As lightly as a wind-blown wisp of smoke she flitted across the grass toward him. "Are you here, Mr. Brown?" she asked, her voice trilling like the suppressed warbling of a bird. "Yes, Miss Rowland," he answered, softly, and he advanced toward her. "Thank God!" she ejaculated, fervently. "I was afraid you would not be able to get down past Albert's room. What is it you have to say? Oh, I'm crazy--crazy to hear!" He told her, watching her face closely. She started, narrowed her eyes in perplexity, and then, unconsciously, put both of her hands on his arm and held it as she might have that of a long-tried and trusted friend. "Oh, what do you think? What do you think?" she all but moaned. "Will it be safe?" She had lifted her sweet face close to his. Her touch on his arm was a thing never to be forgotten. It seemed to rivet his very soul to hers. He weighed his decision deliberately. "I cannot really see that they are in much more danger," he finally got out. "It is a fact, as Kenneth says, that, with us to keep watch on the road, we could warn them of any approach that had a suspicious look. After all, perhaps the very last place the officers would think of searching would be one so close at home. At any rate, the boys want to be near you--Martin especially." "My poor baby!" Mary suddenly broke down and began to weep. "Don't, don't! Please don't!" Charles put his arm around her; he drew her to him. He wiped her eyes with his own handkerchief; his toil-hardened fingers touched the velvety skin of her cheeks. She did not resent his action. "He is just a baby!" she sobbed; "he is as gentle and timid at times as a little girl. I must see him to-night." "To-night!" Charles exclaimed, in surprise. "Yes," and she drew herself from his embrace as if unconscious of having yielded to it, though her tear-wet face was still raised to his, the tremulous, grief-twisted lips never before so maddeningly exquisite. "Yes, I must see him to-night. I'll go alone. I can whistle and they will know who it is. Kensy may be asleep--he no doubt is--but Martin will be awake, poor boy!" "May I not go with you to--" he began, hesitatingly. "No, I'd better go alone. You see, if I happened to be discovered I could make some excuse, but it would be different if we were seen together. Don't wait for me. Please go back to your room. You are tired. We are making you do both night and day work, but, oh, I am so grateful! Good night." "Good night," he echoed, as she flitted away from him like a vanishing sprite produced by the moon and starlight.